This Sucks
by theYasha
Summary: Emily hates being sick, and she hates having someone take care of her. Trellis knows this. It doesn't stop him. (Tremily)


Emily heard that now-familiar knock on her door, and groaned. He had been doing this for the past four days, and she was getting pretty sick of it. Heh... sick.

She had caught some sort of Alledian disease, and it sucked. Only humans could get it, and she had been the lucky human to catch it while she had been on watch for any trace of Algos island.

"Can I come in?" he called through the door.

"NO," she yelled, hiding her head beneath a pillow.

She heard him groan. "I'm coming in anyway, hope you're decent."

He paused for a moment, before walking in. She rose from her bed, lifted the pillow, and chucked it at him. He barely dodged it, shielding the bowl of soup in his hands. "Hey! I could have dropped this!"

"Shut up, Trellis. I'm sick of fish," she said.

"Fish is good for you. And I'll sit right here until you eat it," he said, stomping over to the chair next to her bed. He had brought it up the first time he came to visit her, and he never took it back.

"Hey, you know what's also good for me? Sleep. Get out so I can do that."

"Food comes first, Emily. You said it was fine the first time you had it."

"And then someone decided I should have it for every meal! Who was that, anyway?!"

Trellis shrugged, placing the soup on the table next to her. "I don't know, but I know that fish helps with this sort of sickness. Now, eat up. Someone went to a lot of work to catch these fish for you."

"Waste of effort," Emily said, turning away from him. She despised being sick. She didn't get sick often, but when she did it always hit her hard. This was an especially terrible time to be sick, because they were still searching for that island. These were dangerous skies, and now she wouldn't be able to help them if something happened outside. She saw herself as just another problem on the ship, and Trellis had decided to take her as his responsibility, for some reason.

Trellis sighed. "Don't make me take the blanket, Emily."

She gripped the thick fabric tightly. "No. Don't take it. I need it."

"You also need to eat. You know I'll take it if I have to."

Emily scowled, remembering the last time he did. The air up here was cold, and each time she was exposed to it she would start coughing up a storm.

"Fine," she said, poking her head out. Her eyes were gummy, and she wiped them slowly. Then she took the bowl, and stared into it. The pale, slimy mess inside looked completely unappetizing. She tilted the bowl, and took a sip. It tasted like soggy bread. Maybe that was one of its ingredients.

"Some salt would be great," she complained.

"You've got plenty already. Besides, your condition won't react very well to salt," he stated.

She rolled her eyes, and took another sip. "You know an awful lot about a disease you're immune to."

Trellis shrugged again. "It's just common."

She slurped some more soup from the bowl. He glared at her. "You have a spoon, you should use it."

"Shut up, _Dad_."

She had meant it as a sarcastic response, but when she thought about it, she realized how awful that statement was. He _was_ sort of acting like her father. She remembered when she got the flu as a child, and he never left her side. He always had a bowl of chicken noodle soup, and by the time she got better she was pretty sick of _that_ as well.

These dreams that were plaguing her had been placing her father somewhere in the back of her mind. Always, constantly, she seemed to be thinking about him.

His bearded face had taken up a place that used to be reserved for...

She looked up at Trellis. He had a stunned look on his face, even though more than a few seconds had passed since she said that. She picked up her spoon, and nervously took a chunk of fish from the stew. She chewed it slowly, searching for any trace of flavor.

Trellis got up, and walked to the door. "I'll be back for the plate," he said in a flat tone.

"Uh, this isn't a plate," she said, glancing up at him. She was startled by the bitter expression on his face. He slammed the door as he left, and she could hear every step he took away from her room.

She looked back down at the stew. What was up with him? All she said was...

Then she remembered that their relationships with their fathers were entirely different. His father was the Elf King. She couldn't imagine what it must have been like to be raised by a long-dead dictator, but she was sure she didn't bring up any pleasant memories by calling him that.

She groaned, letting her forehead drop into her palm. She had really messed up.

She quickly sipped all of the strange mess in the bowl, and wrapped herself tightly in the blanket. She slid out of bed, and headed steadily toward the door. She braced herself as she opened it, but the cold gust of air caught her by surprise anyway. The sound of her coughing was stolen by the shrieking wind, and her blanket billowed around her, giving no protection from the cold. The bowl in her hands already felt freezing, but she gripped it tightly anyway. She walked steadily to the kitchen, where she hoped she'd be able to find Trellis.

Instead she found Vigo, making coffee. He gave her a cold stare when she walked into the kitchen, shivering and coughing. "You shouldn't be out. You'll never get better if you spend too much time in this weather."

"I know," she said, after she finished coughing. She placed the bowl on the cabinet, and wrapped the blanket tightly around herself again. "Have you seen Trellis?"

"No," he said, pouring himself a cup of dark coffee.

Emily sighed. She looked around the kitchen. She saw that there was still a small pot of stew on the stove, sitting at a low temperature. There was just enough for one more bowl, if wanted.

"Who makes that sludge, anyway?" she asked, gesturing towards the pot.

"Trellis does," he replied. He looked over at her, and saw she seemed surprised by this. Deep inside, he chuckled. "He also scoops up water with his stone every day, searching for any edible fish. It's a rather tedious process."

Emily's gaze shifted to the floor, as she processed this new information. He had been doing all this himself? Why would he do that, after she kept on grumbling about it? She had disregarded his efforts so often, so why should he care at this point?

She glared back at the pot. "I'm just a burden. I hate this."

"Try getting better," Vigo said. "And stop going out in the cold."

With that, he left the kitchen. She watched him go, then tucked her blanket in tighter. She knew she had to go back.

Trellis let out a rush of white fog into the cold air. That flashback was awful, but at least he didn't have to bother her with it. He knocked on the door to her cabin. "Emily! Can I come in?"

No answer. That didn't work yesterday, so what made her think that would work today? He knew she hated having someone take care of her, but her opinion on this didn't matter.

"I'm coming in," he said. He paused long enough for her to protest if she really needed to, and entered. She wasn't in her bed. Neither was her blanket. The bowl was gone as well.

"What?"

He closed the door as he walked in, and saw that the chair was facing away from him. He turned it, and saw it was empty.

Suddenly, he was tackled from behind by a flurry of fabric and red. He landed on the bed, a softly coughing mass weighing him down. The blanket fell over both of their heads.

"Emily," he wheezed. "Why on Alledia did you do that?!"

She shifted mostly off of him, although she kept her arms and head laying against his back. "You're trapped. Now you need to confess."

"Confess what?" he asked, rolling over to glare at her. Emily stayed put, simply moving her arms and head to rest on his chest.

"Did you make me that stew?" She asked, returning his glare.

His eyes widened slightly. Then he glanced away. "Yeah. So what?"

He avoided looking at her. Of course, she had to figure it out eventually. Now she'd just be even grouchier about his actions. Brilliant.

"Did you catch the fish yourself?"

He grit his teeth. How did she figure that out? Someone must have told her. He'd make sure to interrogate everyone on this ship about it.

He felt her shift position, and he couldn't help but look down. Her face was closer to his. She wasn't glaring, but she was still frowning. "Tell the truth," she said.

It was incredibly warm under this blanket. A lump had formed in his throat, and he swallowed to get rid of it. "Yes. It's not that hard."

Emily stared into his eyes. Hers reflected the faint glow that came from his. Her expression was unreadable.

She leaned down, and kissed his cheek. He jumped lightly beneath her, startled at the action. It took him a moment to fully realize what happened.

"Thank you," she said gently. She looked down at him, and almost laughed. His eyes were wide, his face flushed a dusty red.

"Now, as punishment for caring, you're going to stay trapped here. I'm freezing, you're warm," she said. She wrapped her arms around him, and pulled him close. Nuzzling into his chest, she quickly fell asleep.

Trellis looked down at her. How did this happen? How could she still be cold, anyway? He felt like he was boiling.

He leaned back, reluctantly relaxing. He took her shoulder in his arm, and pulled her closer. This was a perilously romantic situation, but it was certainly better than sitting in his drafty room. He rested his head on hers, his own eyes lazily drifting shut. His arm would ache and tingle when he'd wake up, but that didn't matter. He just cared too much.


End file.
